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by taylocrow



Series: jonsa new year drabbles [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, F/M, Jealousy, Love Triangles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylocrow/pseuds/taylocrow
Summary: The memory hurts more because he's holding her hand.Written for @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles New Year Event!
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: jonsa new year drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133024
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





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**Author's Note:**

> 28th: Memories

They’re all pacing, eyes wandering, hearts racing as they weigh their individual agendas. Sansa is no fucking fool. There was no mistaking the glow in Daenerys' eyes at Tyrion’s mention of her plan inevitably resulting in setting Kings Landing aflame. How everyone else felt defeated at the mention, all mutual in their agreement in the sparing of innocent lives. Except for one.

“We’ll find a way.” Jon reaches for Daenerys’ hand, delicately placed upon their wooden meeting table. He takes hold of it and brings it closer to him so that he can gently caress his thumbs across her knuckles, “We’ll get you home.”

_Home_.

Sansa’s stomach churns at the memory of Jon’s calloused hand that once laid in her palm. The way he’d looked at her when she pleaded with him to fight for Winterfell.

When they reclaimed their ancestral home and Jon was named the King in the North, Sansa was all too aware of her fleeting sense of safety and inspiring future. This she could believe in, the never ending cycle of change, the shift of powers like the sands in Dorne. She was no. fucking. fool. She knew better than to trust. No matter how soft Jon's hands had been upon her skin.

The same hand that's holding Daenerys' now.

If she were younger, she’d send a chair flying across the room, or at the very least huff in annoyance. But she’s a woman grown now, a Queen herself, and she knows no home but the home in the North.


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